I remember getting introduced to the great outdoors from
many different people, not just family. I wish I had more pictures from these events
to share, but sometimes I think it is good there aren't as many pictures because
without the pictures that helps to remember those great times. I think it makes
the memories more vivid and also more awesome.
I remember the first time I was introduced to anyone
shooting a bow was when I was at my friend Cody's place in town and his oldest
brother Travis was in the backyard practicing shooting his bow at a target. A
year or two later it was also with my friend Cody that I think I really
developed my passion for bow hunting. We were sitting at his house when his
brother Josh (Toehead) and one of their family friends Trevor asked Cody and me
if we wanted to come push some river bottom for them. I really didn't have a
clue what we were in for but Cody was gung ho so I went along. I think we were around
12 or 13 when this event took place.
I remember we were headed west on 46 when Trevor and
Toehead explained to us where we were going and what we would do. We were
headed to the trap. This is an oxbow of land almost entirely surrounded by the
Sheyenne River around the Kathryn area. The trap is where the river circles
around and almost touches itself. Where the water almost touches itself, there is
a thin piece of land that only allows a narrow trail, barely walkable in
between the almost island and the mainland. The trap is almost entirely wooded
and is a deer haven. Trevor explained to us that Cody and I would start walking,
one close to the river, the other would be in a little bit and push the trees
in a circle to hopefully send the deer out to the trap where Toehead and Trevor
would hopefully get a shot.
I remember the whole experience was awesome. Being with
two older guys that we looked up to, going to this magical place where big deer
were possible and walking through the woods in an area I had never been before
developed my love for the not only hunting but bow hunting in particular. I
think Cody and I pushed a dozen or so deer out through the trap that day and I
even think Trevor took a shot but there was no blood shed. I think we walked a
couple shelter belts on the way back to Enderlin. But neither of the older guys
was successful. But the stories and the comradery that was shared clinched it
for me. It wasn't about the kill, it never is. I didn't even have a bow in my
hand. Just being there, out there with nature at that time in that spot was
perfect for me.
I remember less than two years later I was saving up my
money to buy my own bow. That is where the passion or some might say obsession began.
I remember my first ever fishing trip when we traveled to
Canada. I actually went there twice, two years in a row when I was 13 and 14
years of age. On the first trip it was Scott, Spencer, Logan, Floyd, Bob, Joe,
Ben and I. The second trip included Scott, Spencer, Logan, Don B, Danny, Joe,
Ben and I. Some of the next few stories I can't remember what happened on what
trip, I am getting old.
I remembered both times we went to the village of Minaki in
the province of Ontario at the resort called Paradise Cove. The town is located
on the Winnipeg River system. It doesn't look like a river though, thousands of
islands surrounded by numerous lakes and bays. We were fishing mainly for
walleye but I believe I caught mostly smallmouth bass. There was also some
northern caught. But on both trips it was good that we brought along food
because as always the resort owner said, "You guys should've been here
last week. The fish were jumping in the boat!"
The amount of memories made here are too numerous to
mention.
I remember driving East on 46 at the crack ass of dawn
and seeing all of the fields covered in water. The night before we got several
inches of rain and that was the summer when the wet cycle began. Actually when
we got to Fargo and after we picked up Scott and the boys, we couldn't go
underneath any of the overpasses on I-29 because they were all flooded. Even
when we were on the frontage road by Nodak the boat actually started to float
off of the trailer because the water was so high. Good times. We almost turned
around but glad we didn't.
I remember the night before down at Joe's eating so much
side pork that I wasn't able to eat side pork again until about a year and a
half ago. Burping and farting side pork in a Ford F150, single cab pickup with
three other guys for seven hours kind of put me off of side pork for 25 years
or so. Sidebar: That pickup blew up on the way home. We had to add a quart of
oil every hundred miles. Smoking good it was. The next summer we went through
bags of pistachios on the way up and the way down to Canada. I still haven't
eaten any of those since. That reminds me, the only cassette Scott had in his
suburban was Hank Williams Junior's greatest hits volume one. Kaw-Liga, ooh… I
still know all of those songs word for word and it is still one of my favorite
albums of all time.
I remember the second trip to Canada and having my
drivers permit. I started driving South of the border around Pembina. The older
guys thought getting through the border with a 14-year-old driving would go a
lot smoother. They were correct. The border patrol just asked me a couple
questions and in no time we were in Canada. They didn't even check for the
illegal bait that was under my cousin while he was sleeping. They also didn't
even check for the extra cases of beer. Good thing I didn't look like a
smuggler at 14. Please don't send the Canadian Mounties after us, I believe the
statute of limitations has passed anyway. Hopefully…
Logan, Spencer, Ben and I with our days catch.
I remember driving through the worst torrential downpour
I have ever witnessed in my life on a two-lane highway somewhere in Ontario,
North of Lake of the Woods. It was so bad that they made me pull over to the
side of the road. It came down so hard it sounded like hail. But there was no
hail. The downpour didn't last that long but I think we were pulled over for
about ten minutes. When we started driving again it felt like I was swerving
all over the road, even my passengers were beginning to worry if there was something
wrong with me. Then my cousin Scott said, "Pull over again at the next
intersection I want to check something." Once he got back to the back of
the trailer he pulled the plug from the boat. Everybody got out of the suburban
and laughed at the scene, except for me. There was so much water in the boat
that the water was almost starting to go over the sides. No wonder why I was
getting jerked around and was swerving. That is a lot of weight and movement
when you don't know it is there. Once the boat was done peeing, I was back in
the driver seat all the way to Minaki. Good times.
I remember driving through the maze of islands going to
sand beach. It was a mythical place that my uncle Floyd used to tell us about
where they caught hundreds and hundreds of walleye. I remember trying to find a
lake called Lost Lake amongst these thousands of islands. The water was low so
we had to lift the motor all the way up to dodge the submerged rocks while
making our way into hidden treasure. It would be a safe bet to say not many
have been through this passage and on that lake. That's neat.
Uncle Floyd, Spencer, Uncle Joe, Logan, myself and Ben at sand beach.
I remember trying to find landmarks on our way to and
from fishing so we wouldn't get lost. I remember Scott, Bob, Spencer and Logan
getting lost for an hour or two on their way back to the cabin. But they claim
they knew exactly where they were. Ha. Good times.
I remember one morning flying through islands in Floyd's
new boat when all of a sudden he started going straight towards one of the
islands. Joe and I looked at each other concerned and about that time Floyd
pulled back on the throttle as he made his way to the front of the boat. As he
jumped onto shore with his cowboy boots, as the hull of the boat was grinding
on the solid rock shore and as he grabbed for the toilet paper he yelled,
"I got the scours!" I still laugh when I hear that story. Too much
syrup. Good times.
I remember the fishing was always great but the catching,
not so much. I remember going back into a shallow bay throwing daredevils and
watching either the biggest northern or a muskie follow my lure numerous times
with no strike. I wish I knew the figure 8 retrieval back then. I remember
seeing my first waterfall. I remember seeing my first bear tracks that turned out
to be my cousins pulling a trick on me. I remember homo milk. I remember the
numerous Bode stories. I remember a
lot of firsts on these Canadian fishing trips. I will remember them forever.
I remember the first time I went down to Todd's. His
place is South of 27 along the Sheyenne River. Talk about deer heaven. I had
never seen so many deers. Walking through that river bottoms that first time
made me feel like Daniel Boone or Davy Crockett. The hunting down there is top
notch and the habitat is the best around. The first time I was down there I was
just a pusher. I didn't own a bow at that time. This time it was Todd, Cody,
Toehead, Christopher and I. We pretty much just stumbled around and pushed deer
in and out of the trees along the river in the middle of December. I know we
crossed the frozen Sheyenne a couple times. I can remember this day like it was
yesterday. It was a blast. Nobody got a shot that day with their bow but that
didn't dampen the awesome time.
I remember going duck hunting for the first time with my
single shot 16gauge. I did not have a driver’s license at the time and I didn't
have the guts yet to steal the Cavalier. I think I was around 13 years old. I
went with one of my dad's buddies, George. He was a waterfowl hunter. He has
passed on now. But every time I saw him at the VFW we always had that in
common. We never shot a duck that day but we did jump a couple roosts. I should
have thanked him before he passed on. He was a good guy.
I remember fishing on the Maple with CL and Savage. This
wasn't my first time fishing of course but this is the actual first time I
remember. I was also with my cousin Ben. He is a couple years younger than I and
I think I was 11 at the time. I do remember it was entertaining. We were
fishing by the old pink house and of course we were fishing for northerns. The
only thing I caught or I should say snagged that day was a huge snapping
turtle. I remember I was on the East side of the river South of the bridge. I
thought I snagged a log or something. But eventually there was a prehistoric,
dinosaur looking head slowly popping out of the water staring at me with its
jaws wide open. I could see my red and white daredevil hooked in its mouth. As
soon as Savage saw his head popping out of the water he was yelling, "Don't
let him get away!" Then Savage started running from the other side of the
river, across the bridge tripping and fumbling along the river bank trying to
get to my fishing pole. Of course as soon as he got to me the line snapped and
the prehistoric monster slowly sunk into the murky Maple. I have always
wondered if that turtle is still alive. It is crazy to think that that turtle still
could be alive. Scary bastages. Or maybe Savage cooked him up in the soup pot.
That turtle soup is good stuff.
I remember my first time hunting mourning doves with CL.
He shot a couple doves the night before, cleaned them and we used their
carcasses for decoys. I thought he was crazy. But he shoved a couple sticks in
their bodies and placed them on bush by a fence line overlooking the creek that
runs by Stordalen's. It wasn't more than a couple minutes and the birds were
flocking in. I don't think I shot any that day. I know I didn't. But CL filled
his limit and we had mourning dove on toast that night. Damn those birds are
tasty. Lightly coated in flour, fried in butter and they are melt in your mouth
tasty.
I remembered checking one of the trap lines with my
cousin Steve and Don B. I believe it was South of Enderlin somewhere. I was
only along with them once while checking the line. But it was memorable. Any
time with these two characters is memorable, trust me. After that experience I
went and bought some gopher traps the next spring. I didn't do so hot, but I
had fun.
I remember my first time pheasant hunting with my cousin
Jason (Spooy) and one of his buddies Dennis. Before we went out they tested my
shooting skills with my old single shot 16gauge. One of them had a bottle of
snoose juice. They got me ready, stood behind me, then threw the plastic bottle
up in the air and yelled rooster. The bottle only when about 10 yards and I
shot. Then we went and inspected the bottle. There was only about a handful of
BB holes in the bottle but they both said, "Good enough." That day I
was treated more like a flushing dog but I did not care. I was one of the guys
that day. I was eight years younger but it didn't matter.
I remember walking one cornfield with Dennis and Jason that
day. We only kicked out one rooster on the walk which jumped up right in front
of me. By the time I collected my thoughts, I didn't pull the trigger because
the rooster was too far away. When we got back to Jason's pickup, Barry (Door
Slammer) pulled up in his pickup. He first said, "Why didn't you shoot
Clint?" I told him I thought it was too far away. He told me, "You can't
hit em if you don't shoot." Wiser words have never been spoken. He then
reminded us of the regulations of not being able to hunt corn fields when they
are unharvested. I had no clue. Jason and Dennis just laughed. Good times.
This photo is from 2009.
I remember the first time I walked the Maple River
northeast of Enderlin. My cousin Jason and a couple of his buddies had me push
the river bottom from Jesse's to Jerry's. I remember there were deer going in every
direction. I think it was either Brady or Door Slammer who were walking with
me. Nobody got a deer that they but it was an experience. I have hunted that
parcel of land many times since this memory. In fact, that is the same place
where I shot my first deer with a crossbow. The whole valley now is a
wasteland. It is difficult to even drive through that area for me. All of the
trees are gone or dead. This is because of the Maple River Dam that was erected
and completed in 2007. It still makes me angry in my facial region. Anyways, I
digress.
I remember looking up to these guys in my hunting and
fishing education. They were older, maybe not so much wiser but they knew more
than I. A lot more than I and I wanted to learn. I think every young boy goes
through the same thing growing up in the country. Hunting and fishing was life.
It teaches you a lot of valuable stuff and things. Life without these things is
still life but not as pleasurable. Most of these events took place in the early
90s. There were no hunting channels, there was just Tony Dean, Babe Winkelmann
and Marty Stouffer to name a few. Thumbing through Outdoor Life magazine made
the imagination run wild with big bucks and stringers full of fish. You needed
to learn from the older guys or needed to get your knowledge from reading. A
pair of blue jeans and some hand-me-down Army camouflage was all the hunting
attire anyone needed in those days. It was a simpler time. Man that makes me
feel old saying that. But it was.
I remember these times in the middle of winter staring
out the window. I remember these times when I am in my hunting blind. I
remember these times when I am in the hospital. I remember these times a lot. These
were good times. I remember these days like they were yesterday. I hope kids
these days still have memories like these to look back on. It wasn't just about
the kill. It was about the experience. I don't think I ever witnessed anyone
kill a deer with a bow until I did when I was 18. It was about the comradery.
It was about the learning. It was about the anticipation. It was about the
thrill of what could be. It was fuck awesome.
Thanks for reading, Clint.
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